


i want you to know that my feelings are true

by sweetillusion



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Trope Subversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21800473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetillusion/pseuds/sweetillusion
Summary: Rami's publicist wants him to enter into a fake relationship in order to raise publicity forBohemian Rhapsody.Both Rami and Joe have something else in mind.
Relationships: Rami Malek/Joe Mazzello
Comments: 32
Kudos: 130
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	i want you to know that my feelings are true

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hot_space](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hot_space/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, hot_space! I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it! 
> 
> The fake dating trope is subverted somewhat in this fic, but it's what worked the best for these two!

Rami receives an unexpected call from his publicist a week after the first trailer for _Bohemian Rhapsody_ is released.

“There’s been some chatter,” Marissa says.

Her call means one of two things: some bad news is about to break or someone’s started a rumor that his team and the studio want to get ahead of. Neither situation is ideal.

“About me or the movie?” he asks warily.

“Both,” she replies. 

Rami’s not entirely sure he wants to know the details of whatever rumor is floating around on the internet. The internet has never been particularly kind to him. 

“There’s a meeting in LA two week from today,” Marissa says. “I’ve already booked your flight.”

Rami frowns. Marissa is being unusually cagey, which means that she’s well aware Rami is not going to like whatever she’s hiding from him.

“I don’t want to be ambushed at this meeting,” he says. “What’s going on?” 

The silence on the other end of the line immediately puts him on edge, as does the delicate way Marissa clears her throat before she says, “The studio wants you to enter into a PR relationship.”

Rami almost drops his phone in surprise.

Marissa keeps her explanation short and simple. 

“Early reactions to the trailer and test screenings aren’t exactly positive,” she explains, voice clipped and precise, “and you’re an unknown quantity for most audiences. We need to raise your profile and a relationship during the press tour and premiere is the best way to do so.”

“How exactly is this going to help?” he asks, feeling a headache starting to form. He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, willing this entire situation to go away. This is the last thing he wants.

“You’ll get more attention, which means the movie gets more attention. The right type of attention will put you in front of top tier directors and producers. You’ll start getting better opportunities.”

“And you think all of this will happen from a relationship?” Rami asks doubtfully. “Shouldn’t I let my work speak for itself?” 

“You already have a reputation as an outstanding actor, but no one knows anything about you. They know the basics, all the same stories about your family and career that are brought out in every interview. But that’s it. No one knows anything about your personal life.” She pauses as though she’s considering her next words cautiously. “You also haven’t had a public relationship in years.”

“So?”

Marissa sighs. Rami can hear her typing intensely on her computer and he winces, glad that this conversation is happening over the phone and not in person. 

“Your current fans might not care about that - they’re a small, niche audience as it is - but this movie is going to attract a different type of audience. The type of audience who’ll want to know more about your personal life.”

Rami cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear, tipping his head against the back of the sofa. He frowns up at the ceiling of his apartment. “I like my privacy. You know that.”

“You don’t have to give it up entirely. Go on a few arranged dates, let the paps take your picture a couple times a week, and get a bit more personal in interviews. It’ll only be for six months.”

“ _Six months_ ,” he says in shocked disbelief. 

“It has to be long enough to be believable and stir up interest,” she says, before adding, “There’s a clause for an additional six months if the movie is nominated for any awards. The studio is hoping to start the awards campaign early. This relationship would be the start of it.”

“No,” he states, shaking his head. There’s absolutely no way he’s going to pretend to be in a relationship for an entire year. He almost considers hanging up right then.

“Rami—”

“No,” he repeats firmly. “I’m not going to lie to people for a year. That’s not who I am.”

He tries to picture himself pretending to date someone for that long and feels something sour form in the pit of his stomach. 

“You need the publicity, Rami,” Marissa says. Her tone is gentle but firm and Rami knows she won’t let this matter go, no matter how much he resists. “The movie needs the publicity as well. And you have to give the press something to write about. Besides, a higher public profile means a better return on investment at the box office. No one wants to hire someone who isn’t bankable.”

Her words are like a knife to the gut. Rami sometimes forgets how cutthroat this industry is, how much it survives on lies and manipulation, money and greed. 

As if sensing his unease, Marissa adds, “No one is going to force you into this. But it will benefit your career. I know you don’t like it, but think about how it will help the movie. You _need_ this movie to succeed.”

It’s a pointed warning, and it stirs up his ever present anxiety at the reminder that the success of the movie rests solely on his shoulders and that this movie will make or break his future in the industry.

As much as Rami doesn’t want to admit it, there is some truth to her words. He’s always valued his privacy and integrity, but that’s often come at the cost of publicity and better roles. For the better part of a decade, the only roles he was offered were based around his race. He’s almost forty. He doesn’t want to see his career flounder before it really ever takes off. Aside from _The Pacific_ and _Mr. Robot_ , everything else on his resume is either bit parts in franchises or indies no one has seen.

Rami knows that his life will change after _Bohemian Rhapsody_. Not only is it his first leading role in a major studio movie, but 20th Century Fox is already planning an awards season campaign. If the movie is a success and if it reaches awards season, it will open doors for him that have been previously closed. While he’s well aware there are certain stipulations he has to make as part of his contract with the studio, he never thought a fake relationship would be one of them. 

He sighs and hates himself a little for asking, “When would it start?”

“Next month,” Marissa answers promptly. The approval in her voice is poorly disguised. “We want a summer romance that carries over into the press tour and premiere this autumn. The idea is to spin it as a love story to coincide with the movie’s release.”

“I haven’t said yes yet,” Rami warns, eyes narrowing when Marissa huffs on the other end of the line. 

“Of course,” Marissa says. “We already have an idea of who will be the best choice. I’m emailing you the shortlist of names now. Take some time and consider it. We’ll talk more over the coming week and we can discuss your decision when you come out to LA.”

“Great,” he says unenthusiastically before ending the call. He tosses his phone to the other side of the sofa with more force than necessary, and then pulls his laptop over from its spot on the nearby table and taps in his password. 

None of Marissa’s suggestions are a surprise, especially not the name at the top of the list. Rami had a feeling certain people would be on the list, and he wonders which of them are also being sweet talked into a fake relationship and which are willing participants. He can already envision the type of editorials and PR pieces his team and the studio will want to run, to say nothing of the “candid” photos and appearances he’ll be forced to endure.

It makes him unbearably anxious. 

He looks at the names for a long time until they all begin to blur together. As he moves to close out of the browser, he takes one last glance at the list and suddenly stops short, horror dawning as he realizes that every single person on Marissa’s list is female. 

_A love story to coincide with the movie’s release_ , she said. Something about the wording had seemed off when she said it, but he couldn’t pinpoint why it made him skittish.

Against his better judgment, Rami runs a Google search for his name. He ignores the articles criticizing the initial trailer and its perceived historical inaccuracies, going right for the search results pointing to message boards and subreddits. 

Every single one is a link to someone speculating about his sexuality.

Rami closes the laptop with a snap, regret and shame and guilt twining around inside him.

The thing is, there are very few people who know about his sexuality. 

Rami doesn’t exactly keep it a secret, but he doesn’t openly talk about it either. Despite all his years in Hollywood, he’s never understood why the gender of his partners was anyone’s business but his own. 

Rami’s aware that there have been rumors about his sexuality for years, just as he’s aware that his team have also been trying to quash those rumors. Marissa knows he’s attracted to men, as do his manager and agent, but they’ve always pushed him to keep it quiet. 

It made sense at first. He stepped into Hollywood right when the entire country was in turmoil over marriage equality. There had been a serious concern about losing roles or getting typecast at the time. 

But things have changed in the past fifteen years. 

_He’s_ changed.

Rami is no longer interested in trying to keep it a secret. It’s become more and more exhausting with each passing year, and he’s tired of trying to skirt around the issue when interviewers hint at it. Tired of going on dates and having to hide in the shadows, to leave through back entrances and side doors on the off chance that someone would see him and his date. It’s no way to live.

If playing Freddie Mercury taught him anything, it’s that he needs to be true to himself. 

The problem has always been figuring out how to deliver the news. Rami’s never been interested in making a big statement about his sexuality, and the thought of having his team write up a carefully worded press release makes him feel sick. He doesn’t want something overly manufactured, nor does he want to let a third party control how he discusses his private life.

In an ideal scenario, he’d let it happen naturally. There wouldn’t be a need for press releases or pre-planned dates to coincide with staged paparazzi pictures. He’s thought for a long time now that _Bohemian Rhapsody_ would be the perfect opportunity to start letting people get comfortable with the news.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t think that’s a possibility. His management team seems determined to keep him firmly in the closet, regardless of how many LGBT characters he portrays on screen. 

It’s not a great situation and he finds himself at a loss on what to do.

Rami’s first instinct is to call Sami for advice, but after glancing at the time he realizes Sami won’t be finished teaching for another three hours. So he does the next best thing. He calls Joe.

“It’s stupid,” Rami complains.

“It’s Hollywood,” Joe says. “Things like this happen all the time.”

“But why does it have to happen to me?” 

“Because you’re special,” Joe says dryly. 

Rami huffs and sinks down into his chair, running his thumb over the rim of his glass.

They’re at his apartment in New York, making their way through the handle of vodka and two large pizzas that Joe brought over after Rami called him. Rami’s never been more grateful to live in the same city as his best friend, especially since he’s spent the better part of an hour ranting at Joe, who looks progressively more bemused as the conversation goes on. 

“It feels wrong,” Rami says. He picks at the piece of pizza on his plate, scratching away some of the burn marks on the crust.

“What does?” Joe asks, reaching for the vodka so he can pour himself another glass. He slaps Rami’s hand away from destroying the pizza slice and lifts it onto his own plate before Rami can stop him. “Pretending to date someone or that your team thinks you should only date women?”

“Both,” Rami grumbles. The thought of lying to so many people doesn’t sit well with him. 

“You know my feelings on the latter,” Joe points out. 

He’s been insisting that Rami needs a new management team for ages - an opinion that Sami has echoed one too many times as well - but Rami’s stuck in his contract until 2021. He’s not particularly keen to pay the rather large fee he’ll be hit with if he ends it early.

“I do, but we both know there’s not much I can do about that,” Rami says. 

It pleases him that Joe’s still so firmly on his side. Joe was one of the first people outside his family he had told, and he’s been nothing but supportive.

“As for the former,” Joe continues, “plenty of people do it. Do you know how many people I’ve worked with who’ve been in PR relationships?” 

Rami shakes his head. He forgets sometimes how long Joe has been in the industry and how much he’s seen throughout the years. 

“Doesn’t mean it’s okay,” Rami says. “What works for them isn’t going to work for me.”

“So don’t do it,” Joe says. He finishes off his pizza and pushes the paper plate away.

“What would you do?” Rami asks helplessly. “You’ve been acting since you were six. Surely you’ve faced something like this before.”

“No one was asking me to lie about my life as a child,” Joe points out. “It’s not like being chased around by velociraptors required some finessing of my personal life. I was nine. It’s nowhere near the same thing.”

“You’re no help,” Rami says, and even though it’s teasing, the despair creeping into his voice makes it fall flat.

Joe stretches his feet out underneath the table, lightly kicking at Rami’s ankle. “You do realize that you’re allowed to say no, right? They can’t force you into anything.” 

Rami peers down into his glass like it’s the most fascinating sight in the world. “Yes, but—” 

“What?” Joe asks, eyebrow raised. 

“My publicist thinks it will help my career if I’m in a relationship and the studio thinks it will distract the public from any bad press.” 

Joe leans back in his chair, arms crossed and a skeptical expression on his face. “That still doesn’t mean you have to agree to it. A fake relationship is one thing. Having them tell you to pretend to be straight is another.”

It sounds worse when Joe says it out loud. Rami can rationalize and justify his team’s intention in his mind, but hearing someone so bluntly state it makes him realize how ridiculous the entire scenario truly is.

“They haven’t told me that exactly,” Rami says.

Joe levels him with an unimpressed look. “They’ve insinuated it pretty heavily.”

Rami bites down on his lower lip and looks away. He _needs_ for this movie to do well, and he’s almost desperate enough to go along with whatever scheme his team and the studio cook up, even if it comes at the cost of his self-respect.

“You’re going to agree, aren’t you?” Joe asks, studying him carefully. He sounds resigned and more than a little long-suffering. 

“I don’t know,” Rami says honestly. “I really don’t know what to do right now.”

“Tell your publicist no,” Joe repeats. He waves his glass at Rami, some of the vodka sloshing over onto the table. Rami watches as Joe dabs at the dribbles of vodka with his finger. “Or just get a boyfriend. Doesn’t matter if he’s fake or real. It’d solve all your problems.”

Rami blinks at that. “They won’t like that.”

Joe shrugs. “Then convince them. You’re relatively charming.”

“Thanks ever so much,” Rami says wryly. 

“I’m serious,” Joe says, and for once there’s no trace of humor in his tone. “There’s no reason why they can’t use you dating a man to promote the movie. Hell, that’d probably go over better. You can do the fake relationship thing, which would make your publicist happy. And you get to choose someone you’re actually interested in while also letting people know you’re not straight, which would make _you_ happy.”

He has a point. The timing is perfect and the more Rami thinks about it, the less downsides he finds. The type of people who’d object to him dating a man aren’t the type of people who would be flocking to see a movie about Queen or Freddie Mercury anyway.

There’s only one crucial problem. Rami sets his own glass on the table with a thunk and leans forward. Joe leans forward in tandem, his expression expectant. 

“I can’t just pull some stranger off the street and ask them to start getting photographed by the paparazzi. That’s not fair to them. We both know how rough this lifestyle can be. I won’t subject someone to that without their consent.”

“Then choose someone you know. Another actor or a musician. Have your publicist put together another list of names.”

“Also easier said than done,” Rami repeats wryly. Despite all the advances they’ve made, he knows there are still quite a few actors in 2018 who prefer to remain closeted. He doesn’t blame them in the slightest, but it does make finding someone within the entertainment industry willing to date him much more difficult. “If I have to pretend to date someone, I want it to be someone I like. I’m not spending six months dating some guy I can’t stand.”

Joe lets out a long sigh of frustration and flicks some of his vodka at Rami. “You’re being purposefully difficult now.”

Rami smiles despite himself. “If you think it’s so easy, why don’t you find me someone to date. Maybe you can switch your career from acting to public relations.”

Joe pauses, looking at him speculatively. When he replies, there’s an odd tone to his voice that Rami doesn’t know how to interpret.

“Too bad I can’t be your boyfriend,” Joe says slowly. His gaze flicks over Rami’s face, cautious and curious. “You already like me or else you would have gotten rid of me eleven years ago. And I have to say that I’m definitely a catch. I’d make an excellent boyfriend.”

Rami stares at him. He’s almost positive it’s a joke. He knows Joe is straight, just as he knows that Joe would never make light of something like this.

And yet, Joe’s tone indicates that there’s a good chance he’s serious. Rami refuses to let himself think about the possibility, refuses to get his hopes up.

“Funny,” he says, attempting to sound lighthearted but failing miserably. “But I don’t think pretending to be…” Rami trails off, unsure of what term to use. He looks at Joe helplessly. “What I mean is that I don’t think this is the type of movie where we should lie about something like that.”

“It wouldn’t be a lie,” Joe says softly. He sounds uncharacteristically shy and it makes something in Rami’s heart twist. “At least not for me.”

“But I didn’t think you—”

“Sometimes,” Joe interrupts. There’s a blush high on his cheeks and he twines his hands together nervously, almost like he’s afraid of Rami’s reaction. “It’s not really something a lot of people know. Not that I’m hiding or ashamed or anything, but nothing ever got far enough to become public, you know? Plus, it’s not like anyone out there really cares about my personal life. I don’t exactly have the paps following me around.”

Rami’s so focused on that “sometimes” that he almost misses the rest of Joe’s comment. The word rattles around in his head, over and over, and he wants to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. That he really heard Joe correctly.

“Oh,” he says. 

_Oh_ , he thinks. _Please let this be real._

“You know how it is,” Joe says, gesturing at him. 

Rami nods, swallowing. “I do.”

His heart is beating a mile a minute and a kernel of hope starts to bloom in his chest.

This changes everything.

It’s a monumentally bad idea.

Rami’s had a crush on Joe for _years_. Almost a decade, in all honesty. 

There was a moment, sometime during their fourth month of filming _The Pacific_ , where Rami had looked over at Joe and realized that his feelings ran beyond friendship. He’d spent nine long, arduous months ignoring those feelings, forcing himself to believe that every small touch and glance was nothing more than the type of intimacy built up between friends and colleagues who spent every waking moment together for months at a time.

While his crush had fizzled somewhat after _The Pacific_ ended and they went their separate ways, it had rekindled once they were working together again on _Bohemian Rhapsody_.

He wasn’t surprised when it happened. Joe’s an easy person to fall in love with, and Rami’s almost positive that his feelings have existed in some form or another since the first day they met on a beach in Australia, Joe’s hair a red beacon amongst a landscape of tans and blues and greens. 

Rami’s had ten years of practice at pushing his feelings aside. As much as it has hurt at times, he’s always known that he’s grateful to even have Joe in his life as a friend. 

But now things are different.

Now there’s hope.

All those desires and dreams he’d buried deep are rising to the surface, relentlessly taunting him. He thinks about dating Joe, about kissing him, about acknowledging him as his partner during red carpet events. Thinks about pushing him down onto silk sheets and mapping out every curve and jut of his body.

He wants it. Oh, how he wants it. He can’t remember the last time he wanted something so fiercely.

The problem, Rami thinks, is that if he goes through with pretending to date Joe, the pretense is going to be decidedly one-sided. 

Rami’s already desperately, hopelessly in love with Joe. He’ll gladly take any scrap of affection Joe wants to offer - real or fake - but he worries that all of this will end in heartbreak. 

He doesn’t know if he can survive that.

Marissa texts him early the next morning.

Rami rolls over in bed, hand slapping against the nightstand as he fumbles for his phone. His head is pounding from his hangover and he groans as his phone continues buzzing.

_Have you given any thought to our conversation?_

_No_ , he replies. 

He’s already awake by this point and his messages indicate there are several other people who’ve been trying to reach him throughout the night. With a resigned grunt, Rami unplugs his phone from the charger and burrows back under the covers.

 _You called me six times last night_ , Sami’s text reads. _What’s wrong? What did you do? You better not be dead or in jail._

Rami types out a quick _I’ll call you later. Need some advice._

There’s some other messages he ignores for the time being - two from Carly, one from Christian, and another from Sam - all presumably about the scripts for the last season of _Mr. Robot_. There are a couple messages from Gwil and Ben in their group chat and he makes a mental note to scan through those later. He spots one from Brian as well and feels a small twinge of guilt for also marking that one as something to address later. If anyone would understand his current predicament, it would be Brian and Roger.

Instead, he focuses on the sole message from Joe. It’s simple, a short, _sorry about last night_ , followed by a series of martini and pizza emojis.

Rami has no idea what Joe’s apologizing for, but he hopes it’s not for finally letting Rami in on a secret he’s apparently been harboring for years. Joe must know that Rami doesn’t care. They’ve gone through too much together for Rami to ever care.

The connection he shares with Joe on and off camera is something rare and infinitely special. They work together in a way that Rami has never experienced with another actor, let alone another person. They’ve gone on vacation together and have met each other’s families, to say nothing of the countless life events they’ve shared. Rami knows his siblings and his mom consider Joe an extension of their family, and Joe’s mentioned more than once that his parents and siblings have the same feelings towards Rami. 

After his family, Joe is one of the most important people in his life. They’re so firmly entwined in each other’s lives that Rami doesn’t know what he’d do if something ever came between them.

Joe has done nothing that he needs to apologize for. If anything, Rami is going to need to apologize for blathering on about his problems and for dragging Joe into the drama. 

In the light of day, Rami replays their conversation from the previous night. He still doesn’t know how to respond to Joe’s text. He writes a few messages before deleting them, worried that they’re too intimate and too revealing. He finally settles on, _nothing to worry about, Joey_ , and hits send before he can second guess himself.

“What do you mean Joe offered to be your boyfriend?” Sami asks suspiciously.

They’re chatting on FaceTime, and Rami’s leaning against the island in his kitchen as he sips on a cup of coffee. It’s a welcome relief after a night of vodka and pizza.

“That’s what he said,” Rami insists. “I’m not making it up.”

Sami eyes him warily, like he doesn’t truly believe anything Rami says. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Rami, you were drinking. He was drinking. You both do stupid shit when you’re drunk.”

“He was serious.” 

“Was he?” Sami asks dubiously. “Have you even talked to him about it?”

“No,” Rami says. He knows he should, but he’s worried that the moment he brings it up, Joe will reveal that it’s all been a horrible joke. Rami wants to live in denial a little bit longer. 

Sami sighs. “You’ve been half in love with him for a decade,” he says. “Don’t rush into anything, okay? Can you promise me that?”

“Sure,” Rami says.

They both know he doesn’t mean it.

Rami leaves it alone for two days.

Joe only texts him once during that time.

_Are you avoiding me?_

_No_ , Rami replies.

_Don’t lie to me. I know where you live. And I have your mother’s number. I won’t hesitate to use it._

Rami scoffs, though he knows Joe will make good on his threat to call his mother. _You wouldn’t dare._

He scrolls through their chat history in his phone as he waits for Joe’s reply, smiling when he comes across old conversations or photos.

Rami hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the possibility of dating Joe, and as he thinks about all the memories they’ve shared over the years, he comes to a decision.

The next time Marissa texts him, Rami throws caution to the wind and replies with, _What about a guy?_

Her reaction is immediate. She calls him and Rami answers with a mixture of resignation and trepidation.

“Absolutely not,” she states, without so much as a hello.

“Why?” 

“You’ll never get the type of roles you deserve. You’ll either be typecast or end up with lower tier supporting roles. No one will cast you in a lead role and you’ll never be considered for a major franchise.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” he says. He pokes at the burger he just got delivered and out of spite and pettiness, takes a giant bite, chewing as he answers. “I fought against being typecast as a terrorist. I can fight against being typecast because of my sexuality.”

“Rami, I know this industry better than you do,” she replies. The annoyance in her attitude is evident and Rami steels himself for the fight he assumes is coming.

“And I know myself better than you do,” he snipes. 

The silence on the other end of the line is deafening. Rami has always been deemed a perfect client: polite and professional, never crossing the bounds of impropriety. He’s always prided himself on having a great reputation, but there are things that even he has to fight against.

He knows he needs a publicist to manage his image, knows that her role will be even more important if _Bohemian Rhapsody_ becomes a success. But he doesn’t like that her claws are so deep in his personal life. He should get some say in how his life is managed. 

“You want a love story to coincide with the movie, right?” Rami asks, gentling his tone and trying to rein in his temper. “Well, it’s a biopic about Freddie Mercury. If I can’t come out now, I’ll never be able to come out. I’m ready for this.”

“No,” Marissa repeats, “you’re not.”

“Marissa, come on. This is the perfect opportunity.”

“Out of the question.” Her voice is short and sharp, and Rami knows the conversation is heading down a dangerous path.

It doesn’t prevent him from saying, “I have a right to tell people. It’s my life and my choice.”

“You signed a contract granting me rights to manage your public image,” Marissa snaps. “There are certain things outside my control, but this isn’t one of them. If you want publicity from pictures and interviews, I get to decide how that’s done and who it’s done with. I gave you the opportunity to pick who you want to spend the next six months dating, but I have no problem choosing for you.”

Rami’s shocked silent. Before he can even formulate a reply, Marissa continues, “I have no problem with your sexuality, but you’ll get better press and better roles if we pair you with a specific type of actress. You’re not the only one who suffers when you’re not working.”

 _What the fuck_ , Rami thinks.

Not for the first time, he hates Hollywood rules and double standards, and he hates himself for being naive and eager enough to sign his life away to a public relations agency. 

“Are we understood?” Marissa asks, her tone indicating that their conversation is over regardless of whether or not Rami agrees.

A chill runs down Rami’s spine. “Understood,” he says stonily.

Rami is livid. He calls Sami, who picks up on the first ring and doesn’t even protest when Rami immediately launches into a rant.

“She can’t legally prevent you from coming out,” Sami says. He’s just as angry, if not more, and Rami has to spend several minutes convincing him not to hop on a flight out to New York.

“You’re right. She can’t,” Rami agrees, “but she _can_ convince media outlets not to publish any stories relating to it.”

Sami lets out an aggrieved sigh. “You chose the wrong career. Your industry is a nightmare.”

“Tell me about it.”

He hears Sami moving around on the other end of the line and it makes him wish he was out in LA. He misses his family. “So what does Joe think about it?”

Rami shuffles his feet, toeing at the ground with the tip of his sneaker. “I haven’t told him yet.”

Sami snorts. “Probably a good thing. He’d already be halfway to her office by now.”

Rami feels his cheeks heat and he’s not entirely sure whether it’s in pleasure or embarrassment. He doesn’t need to mention how much he likes the idea of Joe storming across the city to defend his honor. He suspects Sami already knows.

“I need to talk to him about all of this,” Rami says. “I took your advice and didn’t rush into anything, but we’re gonna need to talk soon.”

Sami lets out a low, distracted noise. “You better talk to him immediately, Rami. Your publicist has already started working against you.”

Sami sends him a link to an article on Just Jared. 

There’s a previously unreleased picture of Rami from the Bo Rhap set placed neatly beneath a headline that reads: _Has Rami Malek Found Love on the Set of Bohemian Rhapsody?_

The picture is innocuous, but it’s the body of the article that makes his blood boil.

_“A source tells us that Rami Malek has found love while filming the new Queen biopic Bohemian Rhapsody! Mr. Malek was apparently secretly seeing an actress from the cast for the entirety of his stay in London. Several other sources close to the actor have mentioned that he’s infatuated with the new love of his life._

_‘They were very affectionate and happy,’ one source stated, who spotted them out and about in London while the movie was filming. ‘Definitely a couple very deeply in love.’”_

The article is vague, no names and no speculation on who the co-star might be, but Rami’s not a fool. He knows exactly who his team wants to pair him up with. 

This is a warning.

Ten years ago, Rami would have heeded it. He doesn’t do that now.

Instead, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

_Did you mean it?_

Rami is careful to make sure Joe’s the only recipient and that he hasn’t actually sent the text to their group chat. As much as he adores Gwil and Ben, he doesn’t want them to know about the situation quite yet.

Joe replies quickly with a series of question marks. Rami rolls his eyes, though his lips tick up into a fond smile.

 _About pretending to date me_ , he writes. It feels reckless and he secretly relishes in the feeling, letting is wash over him.

There’s a long moment where the message indicator appears and disappears, then reappears before disappearing once again. Rami tries not to let his anxiety get the better of him as he wonders what Joe could possibly be typing.

What eventually comes through is: _Meet me at the bar near my apartment in twenty._

Rami’s nursing a gin and tonic when Joe casually strolls into the bar, acting as though he hasn’t turned Rami’s entire life upside down a few short days ago. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a pair of black sunglasses perched on his head. His smile is easy as he slides into the booth across from Rami and rests his elbows on the edge of the table.

“A little early in the day for alcohol,” he says breezily, raising an eyebrow at the drink in Rami’s hand.

“Desperate measures,” Rami says. He’s already on his second drink. They’re overpriced and the alcohol is weak, but he doesn’t care. He needs some liquid courage.

Joe slips the drink out of Rami’s hand and takes a sip, wincing before he pushes it back toward Rami. “I saw the article.”

“I didn’t know you had a Google alert set up for me,” Rami jokes. “I’m honored.”

Joe grins. “Sami texted me. He had quite a few things to say about your publicist.”

“Ah,” Rami says. He fiddles with the decorative straw in his drink, swirling it around and letting it clink against the ice cubes and the rim of the glass.

“I don’t blame you for drinking,” Joe says. His tone is teasing, but there’s something sharp and biting hidden beneath the words. He waits for the server to drop off his beer before he raises it in a mock salute. “At least I assume you’re drinking because of the article and not because the thought of pretending to date me is enough to drive you to get drunk at eleven in the morning.” 

“It’s not,” Rami says. At Joe’s pointed look, he relents. “Okay, it kind of is.”

Joe drums his fingers against the table, making a show of scanning the other patrons in the bar. “Are you certain you want to do this?”

“Are _you_ certain?” Rami shoots back. “You’re the one who brought it up first.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” Joe counters. 

Rami studies him, but aside from looking a little uneasy, Joe doesn’t seem to be lying. He tries not to get his hopes up, but it’s difficult. He wants this _so_ much. 

“Look, we don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable. I can find someone else. But—”

“Rami,” Joe interrupts, clearing his throat. “If you need me to do this for you, I will.”

“Just like that?”

Joe nods, looking far too amused. Rami can’t figure out what’s so funny about the situation. 

“Just like that. If you’d rather date some model or actress or whoever your publicist thinks is the best fit, I promise my feelings won’t be hurt. I just don’t want to see _you_ get hurt.”

It’s a sweet sentiment and Rami’s glad for it. “I know you’d never intentionally hurt me,” Rami says. 

Joe picks at the coaster stacked under his drink. “You should be able to date whoever you want. If that happens to be me, then so be it.” He looks up at Rami, his gaze earnest and searching. “You’re one of my best friends, Rami. I’d go to the ends of the earth for you. Pretending to be your boyfriend is the least of my worries.”

Something warm settles in his chest, curling around his heart and squeezing so tight that Rami feels like he may burst. “Thank you, Joey.”

“Anything for you,” Joe says, cheeks flushing at the nickname and his expression softening. 

He looks so tender and fond that Rami almost confesses his feelings, almost lays everything out on the table and tells Joe that he’s hopelessly in love with him. That he wants nothing more than to call Joe his boyfriend, to tell the entire world that he’s dating such an amazing, wonderful man.

 _I’m so in love with you_ , he thinks. _And it’s going to kill me knowing this is all pretend. Knowing that this may be the only chance I ever get to call you my own._

But instead what he says is, “Thank you for helping me out. I know it’s not going to be easy.”

Joe smiles. “We’ve been to hell and back together twice now. If we can get through writer’s strikes and marine boot camps, putting on a ruse for the public is nothing.”

Rami sincerely hopes he’s right.

Rami chooses not to tell his publicist about his plan. She’s already cancelled the meeting in LA, sending him a note saying that she’ll be attending in his stead. Rami knows it’s so that she can ensure whatever actress she wants him to date is approved by the studio.

“I’m handling this my own way,” he decides. Joe’s in full agreement and, in fact, looks gleeful that they’re pulling one over on Rami’s team. “If they want to send out gossip that I’m dating someone from the movie, then that’s what they’re going to get. Just not in the way they expect.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Joe says. They’re four drinks deep right now, the bar table littered with empty cocktail glasses and a scattering of half-eaten plates of fries and nachos. “So what’s the game plan?” 

“Nothing extravagant. We’ll go on some dates and see if anyone notices. I want all of it to be organic.”

“We’re engaging in a fake relationship. Nothing about this is organic.”

“You know what I mean,” Rami says, throwing a french fry at him. He smirks when it hits Joe in the cheek and then plops onto the table.

“That’s no way to treat your boyfriend,” Joe teases. He swipes the fry from the table and pops it into his mouth.

Rami ducks his head, biting back the pleased smile that curls across his lips at Joe referring to himself as Rami’s boyfriend. He likes the sound of it.

“Maybe I can post something on instagram,” Joe says thoughtfully. “Easiest way to get news to spread.”

Rami makes a non-committal noise. He agrees that social media would be the easiest way to get the news out and to contradict what his team wants to release, but he’s still skeptical of social media. Too many bad experiences have made him step away from twitter and instagram. 

“And what about kissing?”

Rami’s jolts in surprise. “What do you mean kissing?” he asks, more sharply than he intends.

“You know, that thing couples usually do with their mouths,” Joe says. “No one will believe we’re dating if we never kiss.” 

Rami avoids letting his gaze drop down to Joe’s lips, even though it’s a struggle. 

“I guess we should consider PDAs,” he says reluctantly. “But let’s, uh, work ourselves up to kissing, okay?”

Joe eyes him strangely and, if Rami’s not mistaken, a little wistfully, but he doesn’t disagree. Just nods and says, “Sure, whatever you think is best.”

Sami is vehemently against his plan to date Joe. He yells at Rami for close to thirty minutes.

“You’re an idiot,” Sami says.

“I know,” Rami moans. He sets his phone down on the sofa, too embarrassed to continue looking at his brother. When he picks it back up moments later, Sami throws him an unimpressed look.

“Of all the stupid things you’ve done - and there have been many - this has to be the worst.”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Say no? Do anything besides pretending to date the guy you’ve been in love with for a decade?”

Rami shifts uncomfortably. Sami has every right to call him out.

“I told you not to do anything stupid,” Sami adds. “You couldn’t even wait a week before you dove head first into trouble.”

“This might be the only chance I have with him,” Rami reasons. 

It’s a selfish justification, and he knows it’s not fair to him or Joe. But it’s so hard to see something he’s always wanted within his grasp and not reach out and take it. And at the end of the day, the only person in danger of being hurt is himself. Joe will end up none the wiser as long as Rami’s successful in keeping his feelings at bay.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Sami says, not unkindly. “Even if that is the case, is this really how you want it to happen?”

“No,” Rami admits. He wants it to be real, but it’s not like he has a choice at this point. Not with the way his publicist and manager have been acting.

Sami sighs. “Talk to him,” he says, “and please don’t do anything idiotic.” 

“It’ll be fine,” Rami assures him.

It is, of course, not fine.

Rami realizes the way he’s going about this fake relationship is unorthodox, but he’s never been content to sit around and let other people manage his life like it’s a piece on a chessboard. 

He and Joe go out on a couple dates in the days following their agreement. They’re nothing overly romantic, nor are they too much of a departure from their normal routine. The only difference is that Rami walks a little bit closer to Joe on the street and has to work even harder to stifle the yearning twisting around his heart. 

“Easiest job I’ve ever done,” Joe tells him the first time their picture is taken by the paparazzi at a baseball game. 

No one has caught onto the fact that Rami’s angling for Joe to be the co-star he’s dating, but he figures it’s going to take time. This is one situation where Rami is more than willing to be patient. He’ll cherish every second they get to pretend to be dating.

Marissa definitely suspects something, and as if on cue, a few more planted stories start popping up in gossip columns and tabloids.

“Those will only go so far,” Joe assures him. “If you’re never seen with anyone else, people will lose interest.”

“I hope you’re right,” Rami murmurs. 

It’s a special kind of torture he’s putting himself through.

He holds Joe hand when they run errands, cuddles up against Joe when they’re sitting in a small coffee shop, leans against him when they’re out strolling down the street.

Every touch sets his nerves on fire, makes him want to curl into Joe and kiss him senseless.

Joe looks at him with such fondness, touches him so gently and reverently, and it sparks something inside Rami. Makes him hope that maybe Joe shares his feelings, that perhaps he’s not acting. That maybe he wants this as much as Rami does.

But Joe doesn’t say anything. Rami doesn’t know whether that makes it better or worse.

The tabloids start sniffing around him more frequently.

There’s confusion about who he’s dating, which is expected, but to his surprise there’s nothing overly negative about his dates with Joe.

There’s only one headline that outright questions their relationship: _Rami Malek Appears to Have More in Common with Freddie Mercury Than We Realized!_

It’s crass, but it’s also not untrue.

The picture they’ve chosen to use is one that makes something sharp and wistful settle in Rami’s chest. He and Joe are sitting on a park bench eating ice cream. Rami’s laughing at something Joe’s just said, but it’s Joe expression that catches his attention. He’s looking at Rami like he hung the moon, the affection evident on his face.

He looks like someone in love. They both do.

They don’t get much time together before Rami is scheduled to head off to Europe to start the _Papillon_ press tour. He and Joe go out to dinner on the Lower East Side the evening before Rami’s flight leaves for London.

Joe posts a picture of them to instagram and captions it with _going to miss hanging out with this guy while he’s off galavanting across Europe._

Their conversation over dinner is relaxed. Rami shares his itinerary and he and Joe chat about potentially going on a vacation together.

“Paris, maybe,” Rami suggests.

“Very romantic,” Joe says approvingly. “I expect to be bought all the chocolate and macarons I can eat.” 

Rami laughs. “Paris it is,” he says. He tries not to think about going on a fake romantic vacation with Joe, and tries even harder not to let it show how much he wants that vacation to be real.

It’s late when they leave the restaurant. The sun is setting, painting the skyline with blues and purples and pinks. Rami’s full of good food and a little tipsy from all the wine. He’s blissfully content, even with the knowledge that he’ll be boarding a transatlantic flight in a few hours.

He looks over at Joe, his red hair bright in the fading sunlight and feels a sudden rush of affection. He reaches for Joe’s hand, pressing their palms together and tangling their fingers.

The look Joe gives him is surprised, but not unwelcome. Joe’s eyes dart from their joined hands to Rami’s lips and he sways forward almost on instinct. They’ve had more than one moment like this in the past few weeks, but nothing has ever happened.

Before Rami realizes what he’s doing, he’s stepping in close and cupping Joe’s face in his hands.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Rami whispers.

Joe looks at him with wide eyes and nods. “Okay,” he says, so very softly. 

The kiss is sweet and gentle and utterly perfect. Rami forgets himself for a moment and melts into it, pressing up against Joe as he tries to deepen the kiss. Joe’s hand spasms against his back before coming up to tangle in Rami’s curls, pulling them with enough force that Rami moans.

Rami’s been waiting ten years for this kiss. He never wants it to end.

They’re both panting when they separate, and Rami knows he looks as dazed as Joe does. He touches his lips briefly and smiles up at Joe. He feels like they’re in their own world, focused on nothing but each other.

“Look at you,” Joe murmurs. He runs his thumb across the curve of Rami’s cheekbone, a small, pleased smile on his face. Rami leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. 

And then the moment is broken.

There’s an eruption of whispers and the telltale sound of someone taking a picture on their phone. Rami’s heart starts to sink. He was so wrapped up in the moment that he had forgotten they were in public. 

He selfishly wanted his first kiss with Joe to be in private. They deserve that much.

Joe clocks the crowd at the same time Rami does and his face instantly shutters. His mood rapidly shifts from happiness into something unexpectedly pained. He grabs Rami’s hand, his grip tight as he guides them down the street without a word. Rami can feel the displeasure and hurt radiating off him.

“Well, people definitely know you’re not straight now,” Joe says and where once his tone would be light and teasing, it’s now bitter and resigned. “Guess that was the plan all along.”

Joe looks absolutely miserable. For the life of him, Rami can’t figure out why. 

The ride to the airport is silent, the awkwardness lingering between them and filling the car to the point that it feels suffocating. Rami has never wanted to leave a car so quickly. Worse, he’s never felt this miserable around Joe. He hates it, and hates even more that he’s the cause of whatever’s changed between them. 

He worries that maybe Joe is regretting the attention that is going to inevitably follow them around. Or that a simple act of PDA made him realize that he doesn’t want to spend the next six to twelve months pretending to be Rami’s boyfriend.

Whatever the reason for the sudden change, Rami doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Joe opts to stay in the car once they reach JFK, hands shoved underneath his thighs as he stares out the window. His jaw is clenched tight and Rami can see the stress lines at the corner of his eyes. 

“Joe, about what happened,” Rami begins, but Joe cuts him off with a sharp exhale.

“Don’t,” he says. “We’ll talk when you get back.”

Rami shuts the car door feeling more lost than ever. 

Pictures of their kiss make their way online within an hour. Rami is already in line to board his flight at JFK, his phone turned off as a precaution. One of the passengers gives him a sly glance as they pass his seat in first class, but no one says anything and for that he’s grateful.

When they land in Heathrow, Rami has several missed calls from Marissa. There are even more texts. He deletes all of them. He doesn’t need to listen to her voicemails to know she’s furious with him.

He’s more concerned that not a single one of his missed texts or calls are from Joe.

Rami falls asleep that night to the memory of Joe’s kiss. When he wakes the next morning, it’s to an influx of articles speculating about his decision to come out and several dozen requests for interviews.

He deletes every single email in a fit of pique. It doesn’t make him feel any better afterward.

He keeps himself occupied by focusing on the _Papillon_ pressers. Charlie is a gem, choosing not to ask him about the pictures he must have seen floating around the normal gossip sites. 

He punches Rami lightly in the shoulder before one of their interviews and says, “Happens to the best of us. You’ll get through it.”

During his downtime, Rami opens his phones and stares at his text messages. There are a handful from Gwil and Ben, and even more from Sami that he pointedly ignores. 

There are still no messages from Joe. Rami composes countless texts to Joe, painstakingly rewriting them until they’re perfect.

_I’m sorry._

_I never should have asked you to participate in this._

_Please don’t hate me._

_I didn’t mean for it to happen so soon._

_We can end it immediately if that’s what you want._

_Talk to me, please._

Joe doesn’t respond to any of them.

A week into the press tour and Rami finally gives in and calls Joe. To his surprise, Joe actually answers. 

“We need to talk. I can’t spend another day worrying about this.”

He props the phone up on the coffee table in his hotel room, staring down at Joe’s image on his phone screen, anxiety spiralling through him. 

Joe looks absolutely wrecked, devastated in a way that makes Rami’s heart drop. He has a feeling he knows what’s coming. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” Joe says. “I _wanted_ to help you out, but I don’t think I have it in me. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have forced you into it,” Rami says. He slumps onto the sofa and puts his head in his hands. “I got ahead of myself and looked for the easiest solution. You didn’t deserve that.”

When he looks back at the phone, Joe’s sitting on his bed, his expression troubled as he watches Rami. “It was more than I was prepared for,” Joe admits. 

“Was it the kiss?” Rami asks softly.

Joe nods. “The dates were fine. The hugs and hand holding and cuddling were all expected, but that kiss…. It didn’t feel like we were pretending. It felt real.” 

Rami swallows down his shame. This is all his fault. 

Joe fidgets on the other end of the call, and the shame Rami feels eating him up inside seems to be reflected on Joe’s face. “After everything else that’s happened this year, I can’t stand the thought of having my heart broken by you.”

Rami freezes. All of the excuses and justifications he was about to trot out in an attempt to salvage their relationship fade away. “What?”

Joe’s face is flushed but he stays resolute when he says, “Rami, I’ve had a crush on you for years.” 

Rami swears he feels his heart stop. 

“What I said before about being your boyfriend was… a bad attempt at flirting, I guess. I thought you figured it out that night when this all began. When you asked me to pretend to be your boyfriend, I kind of panicked.” He looks at Rami with a self-deprecating smile. “I thought this was the only chance I’d ever have to know what it’s like to date you. But that kiss made me realize I would never be happy while we were only pretending. I’d always want more.”

Rami doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry and when he opens his mouth to reply, what comes out is a strange mixture of the two. A flash of hurt crosses Joe’s face and before he can hang up on him, Rami rushes to say, “We’ve been such idiots. I’ve been half in love with you since _The Pacific_.”

“That was a decade ago,” Joe says, eyes wide and voice hopeful.

“It was.” 

Rami watches in amazement as a slow smile spreads across Joe’s face. He’s never seen anything more beautiful and he desperately wishes they were in the same room. The same continent or city, even. 

“You’re serious?” Joe asks, and neither of them comment on his choked up his voice sounds.

“I’ve waited ten years to kiss you,” Rami replies. 

Joe laughs, and it’s one of the best sounds Rami has ever heard. “You’re right. We are a pair of idiots.”

“We deserve each other,” Rami says.

“We do,” Joe says. He smiles, so full of love and Rami wishes he could reach out and touch him, pull him into his arms and smother his face with kisses. “We have so much time to make up for.”

“I waited ten years for you,” Rami says. “I think you can wait another couple of days.”

“I’d wait for years if I had to,” Joe says.

Rami know exactly how he feels.

Joe meets him at the airport when he returns from London.

He’s in the arrivals terminal, hands tucked into his pockets as he leans against a pillar. He’s standing on his toes, searching the crowd for Rami.

Rami spots him first. He drops his bags in the middle of the floor and flings himself into Joe’s arms.

When Joe kisses him this time, Rami sinks into it without hesitation. He doesn't even mind the photographs he knows are being taken or the rumors that are undoubtedly being spread across social media.

“I hope your publicist sees these pictures,” Joe murmurs. He rakes a hand through Rami’s hair before trailing the back of his fingers down Rami’s jaw in a movie far too tender for such a public place.

“I hope everyone sees these pictures,” Rami says. “I want them to know I have a boyfriend.”

Joe’s answering smile is as bright as the sun. “So do I.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a reminder not to send this to anyone in the cast. Also, no offense is meant by the premise of this fic. Please remember this is a work of fiction and that it's written for fun.


End file.
